The Cicerone suddenly sprang forward with a despairing gesture to prevent her.

And here the Barbarian was conscious of a more startling revelation.

How and why he could not tell, but he KNEW that the putting on of that article of his own dress would affect the young girl as the assumption of the steel cap and corselet had evidently affected him, and that he would instantly become as visible to her as she and her companions had been to him.

He attempted to rise, but was too late; she had evaded the Cicerone by ducking, and, facing in the direction of the Barbarian, clapped the hat on her head.
He saw the swift light of consciousness, of astonishment, of sudden fear spring into her eyes! She shrieked, he started, struggled, and awoke! But what was this! He was alone in the moonlit gallery, certainly; the ghastly figures in their outlandish garb were gone; he was awake and in his senses, but, in this first flash of real consciousness, he could have sworn that something remained! Something terror-stricken, and retreating even then before him,--something of the world, modern,--and, even as he gazed, vanishing through the gallery door with the material flash and rustle of silk.
He walked quietly to the door.

It was open.